


Lead Me Home

by stepOnMeZenos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Coerthas (Final Fantasy XIV), Cuddling & Snuggling, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Hypothermia, M/M, Near Death, Rescue, Snow, The Trials and Tribulations of Cuddling when you're an Au Ra and have Horns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 01:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos
Summary: On a particularly cold and snowy Coerthan winter day, the Warrior of Light finds himself in a pickle.





	Lead Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> And now for something completely different! Featuring my actual Warrior of Light, not R'zhayo (whom I made up for porn purposes). Incidentally, he's also the Au Ra in my Trials and Tribulations series, in case anyone was curious.
> 
> I will say that I'm still working on nailing his characterisation down, so when he shows up in future fics—and he will—there may be changes.

Khuradakha couldn't see a hand in front of his face for all the snow. Cursed, godsforsaken snow, obscuring everything but what chanced to be right in front of him. He'd trecked across Coerthas often enough that he could find his way even like this, but that didn't mean he had to like it. With the snow going all the way up to his knees, he couldn't even _walk_ properly. Even the various monsters inhabiting the areas were smarter than to venture out in this weather. 

Coerthas in winter had to be what the seventh hell was like. That icy, terrible cold burning its way deep into his bones and refusing to leave no matter what he did. And he'd thought it was bad in _summer_. 

At times like this, he missed his old home in the Azim Steppe.

Really, all he wanted was to hole up in Thanalan until his least favourite season was finally over, but one did not simply say _no_ when Haurchefant asked for a favour. Oh, certainly, Haurchefant wouldn't pressure him if he did; plenty of people acted entitled towards his time and effort, but not him, never him. He'd say he understood, that Khuradakha was a busy man, that he'd find someone else to do it, and he wouldn't even act _disappointed_ —

—and yet Khuradakha still found himself entirely unable not to do whatever he asked, and gladly at that. Even now, stuck in this white-cold hell, he couldn't bring himself to _mind_ that he'd agreed to go out and retrieve a stolen delivery for him. Haurchefant commanded a fearsome power, Khuradakha thought, and tripped over something hidden in the snow underfoot and fell face first into the white mass. 

This _godsdamned land—_

Shivering, he picked himself up and trudged on. If only he could convince Haurchefant to move south. Anywhere else would do. Nowhere were the Eorzean winters as bad as they were in Coerthas. But of course, he would never abandon his post...

Where _was_ that post, anyroad? He'd been walking through the snow for so long now. Surely it had to be close? Any moment, the familiar black walls would become visible even through the white curtains. Then he'd be able to get out of this infernal cold that made his breath fog and his movements clumsy, and sit at Haurchefant's hearth with him, the way they did so often when they had the time and opportunity. Any moment now.

The next time he fell, it took him longer to get up. A curiously numb heaviness spread through his limbs; a feeling the likes of which he hadn't experienced before, neither back in the steppe nor during his time in Eorzea. It made ploughing through the snow harder. He didn't _want_ to slow down, exactly—it would just take longer that way, which was the last thing he needed—but he couldn't bring himself to keep up anymore. Maybe he should sit down for a while. Take a moment to regain his strength, and then go on with renewed vigour. 

Yes, a little bit of rest was in order. He allowed his legs to give way and leaned against a frozen tree. Just a little bit. Just for a moment. Even the Warrior of Light needed to take breaks sometimes… 

Was there… somebody calling his name…? A voice, muffled by the snow, and then something like footsteps—a horsebird, perhaps… 

And then Haurchefant crouched down by his side. This wasn't where he was supposed to be. He was waiting at Camp Dragonhead. He couldn't be here. Or could he? Khuradakha wasn't sure anymore. Everything felt hazy and strange. 

Haurchefant shook him gently. “Stay with me. You can't go to sleep here.“

Khuradakha wanted to answer that that wasn't what he'd been doing, that he'd just needed a break before moving on, but his lips didn't move quite right and he couldn't get the words out. Haurchefant placed a flask at his mouth and poured liquid in that was—gods, it was _scalding_! Khuradkha sputtered and turned away, but found his chin encased in an iron grip as Haurchefant forced more of the liquid down his throat. The second sip wasn't nearly as bad as the first, somewhat uncomfortably warm rather than burning hot, and by the third, Khuradakha began gulping it down eagerly. As he drank, he realised how awfully, terribly cold he truly was. How had he not noticed? 

When the flagon was empty, Haurchefant stashed it away and began undoing the buckles on Khuradakha's armor.

“Haurchefant—“

“Shh. You can't stay in that. We'll never keep you warm enough to make it back.“ 

If Haurchefant said so, it was probably fine. Right? Haurchefant had never done anything to hurt him, and even if it made him uneasy to be out of his armor in the wilderness, with his friend here, it would be alright. Haurchefant could hold his own in a battle, after all… 

Once the last bit of armor had come off, Haurchefant draped a thick, fur-lined coat around him and helped him maneuver his arms through the sleeves, then wrapped him in a fuzzy blanket and finally tied a scarf around his face. None of them did anything to stem the shivering, but Haurchefant seemed satisfied anyway. “Give me a moment, friend. I'll stash your armor away and then help you get on the chocobo.“

“I can get on myself,“ Khuradakha muttered, or perhaps slurred, as he still couldn't move his mouth the way he wanted to. He'd mounted chocobos a thousand times since joining the Maelstrom and receiving his own. Why did Haurchefant think he couldn't? 

Haurchefant wrapped an arm around him despite his protests. “Allow me to help you just this once.“

Arguing felt too exhausting, and so Khuradakha allowed himself to be guided over to the chocobo and attempted to heave himself into the saddle. If not for Haurchefant's grip, he would have slipped off and fallen when the chocobo turned out to be larger than he thought. It had to be one of those draft ones for drawing carriages. With a little assistance, he managed to clamber up and, when seated, focused on keeping his balance as the bird shifted under him. Its body felt warm against his legs. Such a welcome contrast to the icy wind freezing what little of his skin was still exposed. 

Haurchefant settled down in front of him, and without prompting Khuradakha inched closer and wrapped his arms around him. The chainmail the Elezen wore made it hard to share any warmth, but at least he wouldn't fall off like this. Not even when the chocobo took off into a dash.

“You almost made it home yourself. It won't be long until we can sit at the fireplace and warm you up.“ 

“Is that so?“ Khuradakha asked. It was hard to keep track of the time in this hellish weather, and he still felt so sleepy. The swaying motion of the chocobo made it even harder to figure out where they were going. How did Haurchefant know? No matter; he _did_ know, so Khuradakha didn't have to worry about it anymore. He could just let Haurchefant take the lead. With heavy eyelids, he sagged against his friend's back… 

“Talk to me, Khuradakha.“

“Nnn?“ Khuradakha blinked.

Haurchefant twisted around until he could look back at him, somehow succeeding at not falling off in the motion. “Tell me—oh, tell me of the last Primal you faced. 'Tis a thrilling tale, I'm sure.“

The last Primal he'd…? 

That had been Ifrit. Again. Where the Amalj'aa kept getting the crystals, he really didn't know. He'd had to fight his way through the Amalj'aa stronghold to reach their aetheryte, and then… With a drowsy voice, he began recounting the story to Haurchefant. If he wanted to hear it from him instead of that travelling bard that insisted on turning his every act into a song, why not indulge him? 

By the time he reached the end, they'd crossed the walls of Camp Dragonhead, Khuradakha realised with a start. He hadn't been paying any attention whatsoever to his surroundings. If he'd been the one guiding the chocobo, they would never have made it. He'd been careless. 

Haurchefant and that other elezen, what was his name—Corentiaux pulled him from the chocobo and with their help, he hobbled over to the intercessory and inside. The fire in the hearth crackled and spread a flickering light through the room. Ambient warmth engulfed Khuradakha, and it was all he could do to stumble over to one of the chairs and slump down into it. 

“I'm so _cold_ —“

“I know. I'm sorry. Drink this, you'll feel better.“ Haurchefant offered him a large steaming cup. Khuradakha snatched it from his hands and took a deep sip. Hot cocoa. The sweet taste filled his mouth while the warmth ran all the way down into his core. Oddly enough, all it did was make him shiver more, but the feeling was nice nevertheless. 

Haurchefant wrapped his arms around him just as he put down the mug. He wasn't wearing his chainmail anymore; Khuradakha spotted it lying on the floor, discarded and ignored. When had he taken it off? 

Not that he cared in the slightest. Haurchefant was _warm_ , even though he'd been out in the same weather. Khuradakha leaned into the embrace with a contented sigh, and then immediately pulled his head away when he noticed he was poking Haurchefant with his horns. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...“

Haurchefant merely laughed. “Don't worry about it. 'Tis no issue.“

It took some rearranging, but eventually they found a position that allowed them to huddle together without any mishaps. Khuradakhs's shivering slowly lessened. Maybe he wouldn't have to feel cold for all eternity after all.

“Pray tell, Haurchefant,“ he said, watching him perk up, “you told me earlier you were sorry. What for?“ 

“I should never have sent you out in this weather. I'd forgotten that you're not used to our climate, and after all you told me about the Azim steppe too—I should have realised that yours was a task better suited to my own men. I didn't, and nearly caused your death. Will you forgive me?“

Such earnest words, spoken with earnest eyes. Khuradakha laughed. “Forgive you? 'Twas nothing compared to where other people have sent me. If I've been ill prepared for the cold, the fault was mine and mine alone. I've spent enough time in Coerthas that I should have known better myself. And if you insist on blaming yourself, I daresay that by venturing out to save me you've sufficiently redeemed yourself.“

Haurchefant smiled, and Khuradakha smiled back, as he always did; he could never resist it. “A fair point, my friend, but I still intend to make it up to you—especially since you brought my delivery back despite the odds.“ 

“You can start by filling up my mug again… is what I would say if I weren't so comfortable right now.“ Khuradakha closed his eyes. “Is there aught left to do before retiring for the day, Lord Haurchefant?“ 

“I trust Corentiaux to handle it.“ 

“In that case, make it up by staying with me.“


End file.
